Microstory 1982: Accusations

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Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Flynn: The Director has pulled up. What do you think she wants to talk to us about?

Celandine: She’s looking for the mole. She’ll be interrogating us for information.

Anaïs: Unless she’s a mole too, in which case the whole thing will be a charade. She may even be intending to frame one of us for it, so she stays in the shadows.

Flynn: You don’t really think she’s a traitor, do you?

Anaïs: Sachs is, and she chose him to join our tack team.

Celandine: That’s proof of nothing. Careful where you throw your accusations.

Anaïs: Why, because they’ll come flying back at me?

Celandine: Maybe.

Flynn: Easy, ladies. We’re all on the same side. Now, I don’t know if the Director is dirty, just like I don’t know if I can trust all these new agents around us. I felt so much more comfortable around the freepersons than I ever thought I would. But the one thing I do know is that I’ve been working with you two for months, and you’re definitely clean. Can we all at least just agree on that, and stick together?

Anaïs: I can.

Celandine: I can too. You’re right, Flynn. *sighs* She’s here. Get ready.

Director Washington: *walking up* Agent Robles, please gather the troops. I would like to address the group as a whole. I do not like repeating myself.

Celandine: Apologies, sir, I’m not in charge here.

*Washington looks over at Investigator Blass*

Blass: It’s true, sir. Herzog made a declaration after the others...after the exodus.

Washington: Investigator Blass, always with the politically safe verbiage. Very well. Go find him, and relay the order. In the meantime, Agent Robles, do you have tea?

*later, in the bullpen, with everyone in the department*

Washington: Last week, we unmasked a traitor in our ranks. Sergeant Sachs was a dedicated soldier, a patriot, and a good man. How he lost his way is something that I have assigned a team to figure out. This small group behind me is here to do the same with the rest of you. I’m going to be honest with you, we don’t know if he was working alone. He could have been a lone zealot, or there are others in your ranks. Or there are others, but they’ve been assigned to other departments. We truly do not know. If you are a mole, this may make you feel safe, comfortable. But I assure you that I will use every tool in my box to root out the cancer in the government, be it one of you, or even the National Commander himself. The aliens are here, and the last thing we need is to be fighting amongst ourselves when they make their next moves. We have to be ready, and this department was originally formed to do that. I’m saddened that it has disintegrated so epically quickly. In the next coming days, you will be questioned. Your backgrounds will be rechecked, and rechecked, and then re-rechecked. Your associates will be investigated, and your history will be traced. In the meantime, you will continue your training here, under the leadership of Agent Robles here. Who is Agent Herzog?

Herzog: Right here, sir. I took the initiative when the defectors...defected.

Washington: I heard. You’re fired, and you’ll be the first in the hot seat. No one does anything without my orders. Does everyone else at least understand that?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 13, 2398

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Mateo, Marie, and Alyssa are sitting on one side of the table, trying not to look up at the overly bright bulb above. The others have yet to arrive. Alyssa is noticeably nervous, bouncing her knee, and cracking her knuckles. They know that she’s under a lot of stress, so they don’t want to say anything, but this isn’t the kind of behavior that she should be displaying when that door opens. “It’s okay,” he assures her.

“What?” She didn’t even notice what she was doing.

“Are you gonna be able to handle this?” Marie asks her.

“Yes, I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s just...this is the government, but kind of not?”

“That’s the best way to describe it,” Marie says. “They’re sanctioned, but...not everyone who expects to know what they’re doing actually knows what they’re doing. It’s a special kind of covert.”

“And you’re one of them, but no one can know.”

“Yes, you can’t tell anyone,” Marie confirms.

“I can do that. I can keep secrets. I basically raised Trina, and the boys, though less so. You learn how to lie when you have kids.”

Mateo places a hand on her shoulder. “She has to see what you can do, that’s the only reason you’re here. We wouldn’t involve you with this side of things if we had a choice. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know anything about these people.”

Winona comes in, followed by two men, one of which appears submissive, and maybe about as nervous as Alyssa. “Sorry we’re late.”

“It’s my fault,” the nervous one says.

“We’re fine,” Marie promises.

“Yes, it’s all right, Tate. You’re not losing my job.” She faces the members of Team Matic that are present. Mateo starts to think about this. They only ever called it that because most of the members used that name, but now they have multiple Waltons, and multiple McIvers. So it just sounds self-serving.

“Snap out of it,” Marie orders him, reaching across Alyssa’s face to literally snap her fingers in front of his.

Winona laughs. “He does do that, doesn’t he?”

“He’s waiting for the narrator to finish talking,” Marie explains cryptically.

Winona doesn’t know what that means. She was never briefed on the whole Superintendent thing. “As I was going to say, this is my assistant, Tate. He’s afraid of his own shadow, so you can speak freely around him, and he won’t tell anyone.”

Mateo leans forward. “If he really is so afraid, then don’t forget to be nice.”

“I am,” Winona says. “He’s not just loyal to me, I’m loyal to him. The way I see it, that’s what separates us from the bad guys. Speaking of which...” She turns to look at the other man. “...this is Timofey Putin.”

Mateo is surprised by this name. He tries to exchange a look with Marie, but she’s not fazed at all. He’s the only one balking at it.

“What is it?” Winona asks, concerned.

“We really can speak freely here?” he asks.

“Yes, Timofey knows. Marie okayed him a month ago, even before all of this.”

“Vladimir Putin is the name of a historical President of Russia where I come from. He’s...well, he’s a bad guy.”

“Interesting,” Winona begins. “I said, speaking of bad guys, because that’s what he used to be. He was a spy, but he’s recently defected. We believe, however, that his people do not yet know, which is why he could be a great asset to you on your mission. I mean, I don’t know why you’re on the mission, or what this has to do with everything that you are, but that’s why we’re here today, right? Anyone want tea?”

“We’re fine,” Marie says. “Please, sit.”

They sit down. Tate pours himself a glass of water, spilling it from the pitcher, from the glass, and out of his mouth, right down his shirt; all three, a turkey. Alyssa can’t help but giggle. For a moment, no one speaks.

“Does this have to do with that fancy hat you’re wearing?” Winona asks, looking at Mateo.

“You don’t know what that is?” Marie asks her.

“I believe it’s called a fumbler?”

Marie laughs. “Alyssa, are you ready to remove it from Mateo’s head, and place it upon yours?”

Alyssa first looks at Marie, then turns her head to look at Mateo, and then turns back. “Any requests?”

“Her,” Marie answers, nodding towards Winona.

“Is this going to hurt?” Winona asks.

“Not if you hold still, and give Tate a raise.”

Winona cracks a smile. “Fine. Three percent.”

Tate is more scared than anyone.

Alyssa takes a deep breath before taking the hat. She immediately transforms into a mirror image of Winona, complete with the same clothing she’s wearing right now. She adjusts her position to match too, which is a trick they didn’t know she had until yesterday.

“You can move again,” Marie says as Winona is doing everything she can to hold back a gasp.

She adjusts herself, and Alyssa continues to match in realtime, like a true mirror. It’s just something that she can feel. When she creates an illusion of someone who is still alive and kicking, she also creates some kind of connection to them. Ramses figures that she could match Winona’s movements from the other side of the planet if she wanted to. It’s not necessarily just an image. It’s...her. This is important, because they need to convince people that she’s someone else, both in how they look superficially, and how they move around. Everyone has their own gait, their own way of itching the back of their head, or pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. Even holding up the wrong specific fingers to gesture a quantity could give her away. She has to look and act like her target at all times, or people might get suspicious, even if they could never guess that it has something to do with a time power illusion.

“I do not understand how that works,” Winona laments. “I thought all powers had to do with time in some way.”

“Time and space,” Marie clarifies. “You’re in that space over there, so she is superimposing everything in that space over what is in her space. It’s all about the movement of light.”

“Fascinating,” Timofey finally speaks, and does it in his thick Russian accent. “I have heard the stories, but to actually see it... Is there more you could show us?”

Microstory 574: Infamous Amadesin Refugee Rescuer Identified

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A century ago, this world was divided. Law-abiding citizens sat in the center, while the rest were on the fringes as criminals, terrorists, and rebels. They hurt people, and they took what did not belong to them. One of the worst groups of these people were the Amadesins. Amadesis was a spiteful religion based in an unhealthy hatred of any who did not believe as they did. Many of the religion’s sect’s were more or less peaceful, but others were much worse. Anyone wishing to defect from the faith could suffer terrible consequences, sometimes even death. A multinational organization was formed. This organization was unsanctioned by any government, highly underfunded, and poorly staffed. Those a part of it had dedicated their lives to a cause. That cause was to rescue, protect, and relocate Amadesin defectors. But there was one member who was different than the others, with previously undisclosed interviews having referred to her as their superstar. She had the anomaly ability to hide people in special stones that she created. Others might have used this power to create tiny foolproof prisons, or to trap people they didn't like, but not one Patience Cooney. Before working with Bellevue, Cooney worked with the Refugee Relocation Association, ultimately transporting thousands of Amadesin defectors all over the world, almost entirely in secret. Her guests, as they were called, were placed in an artificial simplex dimension, with one of these Cooney stones as its focal point. She could remove them anytime she liked, or they could exit themselves, while anyone with a special password could do so as well. She would take her stones on the road, on trains, and in aircraft, with no one but her and her team being at all aware of the extra passengers. Once at their new home, refugees were given new identities, and some startup money, after which the team would move on and find someone else in need. Cooney did this job with very little thanks, and lived her whole life with only a few people having an understanding of just how impactful she was to the world. Her identity remained a secret in order to protect her rescues. With recent events surrounding the decline in Amadesis membership, however, it has been decided that it’s time the world knew just how amazing and courageous Patience Cooney really was.

Microstory 435: Floor 7 (Part 1)

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We here in quality management do a lot more work than anyone else. We keep watch over the entire process of building a product. We make sure designs work on paper, then we test them under controlled conditions, then we keep track of customer complaints. We should have been the first to hear about the window deaths, but we weren’t. Instead, the survivors of the deaths got together and went to the media, and the whole thing blew up in everybody’s face. If the first time it happened, we had been notified, we could have done something about it. I see no real proof that Analion is at all at fault here, but if we are, then we should have been given the opportunity to correct the mistake. That was the real problem. Yeah, maybe a few products are defective, but if no one tells us about it, how are we supposed to know? I know what you’re thinking; that finding that out is our job. And it is, but we don’t test for real-world conditions. We have no control over what the installers we contract out do, or how the end users mishandle the products. That is, unless we are appropriately notified of any problems. They say it can’t be an installer mistake, because there were multiple installers. That doesn’t mean anything. They could have each installed the windows incorrectly, who knows? Who knows is right, we may never know. A logical protocol for communication wasn’t followed, and so the truth may remain hidden forever. I wish things could have turned out differently, but my scope is only so wide. I rely on the hard work and competence of everyone around me. That’s how the world works, though, doesn’t it? We are all beholden to each other. I better go recite to serenity prayer before I get myself worked up much more.

Microstory 426: Floor 17 (Part 1)

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The company has been building windows for so long that there’s really no longer a need for engineers on that front. If they asked me, I could come up with some new ideas for windows, but that’s not why they hired me. I am responsible for other products, namely our building designs. I was a primary driving force in the process of constructing our new headquarters, and participated greatly in the creation of other past projects. Could I have done something to prevent the deaths from on our defective products? If I had belonged to that department, definitely. I would have stopped the problem long before the project even made it to the fabrication stage. You wouldn't have even called it a problem; just an opportunity to tweak the design. I’m not the best engineer in the world by any stretch of the imagination, but I am good at what I do, and my projects don’t have problems. Rather, once we’ve released a finished product, that’s exactly what it is; finished. I can’t believe the windows team let this happen. Analion has been making windows since the beginning. My God, it was what we were best known for, until I came along with my headquarters design. How did this all start happening now? Well, it’s true that they’ve made minor design alterations, and I’m sure they did so recently, but those don’t effectively account for the deaths. At least they shouldn’t. No—and I’m not saying this because I have my colleagues’ backs—I suspect this to be user error. They say that 99% of the time, that’s what it is, and I believe it. No, I don’t think it’s statistically unlikely that several people across the country experienced the same problem. It certainly has something to do with our windows, and not through some kind of strange coincidence, I’ll give you that. I just can’t imagine the design for a product we’ve had for years could be responsible. Perhaps the instructions for installation were unclear. You know, some people just like to install those kinds of things themselves, who knows? That would my humble guess. But what do I know? I’m just a very well-educated engineer.

Microstory 418: Floor 25 (Part 1)

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I hated school. I was very good at it, but I just never liked how it was set up. I’m expected to learn how to solve for x, and then prove it on a test. That’s so boring. I don’t want to know things that I can just memorize. Anything like that can be discovered ad hoc with a simple Google query. What I love are the deep, thoughtful research questions. I like poring through tons of text, looking for that little bit of information I need to totally kick ass on whatever I’m trying to accomplish. It’s hard to explain that sense of reward and satisfaction I experience when I’ve figured something out that no one else was smart enough to see. That look on their faces when they realize I’ve beaten them...well, I don’t ever actually see that, but I can imagine it. Somebody does all the talking, and convinces things to people; some of which isn’t true. It’s my job to provide my colleagues with the necessary ammunition to get that accomplished, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Sure, it might be nice to receive some recognition for my work, but I knew what I would be missing out on when I decided to pursue the research side of the law. I would enjoy sitting at a deposition once in awhile and dropping some knowledge our opponent wasn’t expecting. No matter, it’s not like that happens a lot. Most of what I do is making sure the company follows the law the entire time so that things don’t ever come to a head in the first place. It’s rare for us to have to deal with opposing lawyers, because I’m usually too good for that to happen. Unfortunately, I’m not a miracle worker. I can give my legal advice, but it’s up to the people who run the company to actually act on that advice appropriately. I don’t consider it my fault that people died from Analion’s defective products. I didn’t personally know about them, nor do I have the expertise to have understood that anyway. It was their fault for not listening to me when I tried to change our procedures to accommodate otherwise unforeseen circumstances. Now things are tough, though. I have to come up with an argument that prevents Analion from going under from this terrible scandal. I’m going to stop and play a few rounds of chess. That usually gets my brain working. I need to be free from distraction.

Microstory 417: Floor 26 (Part 1)

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I’m sorry, I can’t help but laugh. There’s some kind of techie nerd on the floor above us who thinks he’s gotten off scot-free. I imagine he believes that he’s covered his tracks, but what he doesn’t realize is that we hired an investigator to look into the leak. Actually, we hired an entire firm to investigate our current legal problems, and help us build a defense for the company. There’s a department within this private firm whose job it is to look at computer data. I’m sure the techie upstairs has a lot of experience plugging in monitors, but he’s no match for the white hat hackers we hired to find him, I’ll tell ya that much. I’ll also tell you another thing. People often ask me how I sleep at night knowing that I’m responsible for protecting the greedy interest of a corporation? I sleep like a dead baby, that’s how. You think I care about saving the planet, or helping people? Hell no. I just want that money, and corporations are the ones with the money. All you have to do is tell them how much work you’ve done for them, and they trust you well enough to pay you for it. The only time I’ve been in a courtroom was when he took a field trip there in middle school. I don’t do research either; that’s for the floor below us. I just use my silver tongue to get them to believe whatever I want them to. Have I ever lied to an opponent? You bet I have. Have I ever encouraged a client to commit perjury? You bet I have. The law isn’t about finding the truth, it’s just about who’s better at manipulating the facts, and there’s no one better than me. I don’t have to know what really happened with the faulty windows. I don’t have to know whose fault it was, or how they could have stopped it. I just need to convince the judicial system to ultimately let it go. Tricking people is my favorite part of the job, and I would almost do it for free...almost.

Microstory 416: Floor 27 (Part 1)

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I never really felt like I worked for this company. I mean I work at Analion, of course, but we don’t make the company what it is. We just manage all the technological equipment. A new hire needs a laptop, they call me. It’s been two years, and it’s time to upgrade all the machines, I handle it. That’s it, that’s all I do. So when I tell you what I’ve done, please understand that I never considered it a betrayal. Yes, it’s true that, even as only the technology specialist, I don’t actually have the right to the information found on our servers, but what these people were doing was wrong. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly who knew what about what, but the fact is that these deaths could have been avoided. I have proof that the data proving how unsafe the company’s products was readily available. They knowingly sold defective products to customers, and they have an obligation to own up to that. Nobody knows that I was the whistleblower, and hopefully they never will. I sent the information I uncovered to the authorities anonymously, so they don’t even know it was me. I don’t want my name in the papers, and I don’t want to be famous. I certainly have no desire to be infamous. I just had to do the right thing. If that meant breaking company policy, or my legal contract with them, so be it. I’m prepared to suffer the consequences of my actions, assuming whistleblower laws don’t protect me. Fortunately, I don’t think it will come to that anyway, though. I have the education and experience to cover my tracks. No one should be able to find out what I did. Things are going to be better from now on. I did the right thing; now no one else can get hurt. I’m comfortable with my decision.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 19, 2043

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“Towering more than a kilometer in the air,” Harrison explained as he manipulated a holographic image, “the Black Crook Suspended Rehabilitation Facility—nicknamed The Platform—was designed to simulate society, but in a controlled environment. Inmates are referred to as residents and are encouraged to contribute to their little civilization in positive ways in order to prove that they can be safely assimilated back into the real world.”

“Black Crook?” Mateo asked. “That sounds racist...even for Utah.”

Harrison pulled the image up to show the mountain underneath the prison. “Black Crook is the name of the peak on which the facility was constructed.”

Leona was all kinds of professional. “Is it a kilometer above the peak, or a kilometer above sea level?”

“Above the peak,” Harrison answered. “It’s almost four kilometers up.” He continued, “a ten-meter wall that curves inward stretches across the entire perimeter. Assuming a resident could climb to the top of it, he would have nowhere to go. An automated defense system keeps track of all air traffic within two kilometers, and will shoot anything that comes within a kilometer with very little warning.”

“What does it matter? The whole state should be a no-fly zone,” Mateo spat.

“They can’t climb down?” Leona asked.

“The platform extends horizontally beyond the carbon nanotubes that keep it aloft. One would have to defy gravity to move across the bottom of the platform for several meters before reaching anything that would take him vertically. But again, automated defenses. Anything passes beyond the wall is shot without warning.”

“Even if you did get down,” Mateo said, “you’d still be in Utah.”

“How many turrets?”

“Three on each side.”

She expertly operated the hologram and looked for flaws. “Would all the turrets react to an escape? Or just the closest ones?”

Harrison sifted through the data. “For individuals? Just the closest ones. If you try to come in with a large enough aircraft, then all hell breaks loose. What are you thinking?”

“The corners,” she said. “You use one of the corners as your point of egress, and you only have two turrets to contend with. Disable those and you can leave.” She skimmed some of the data regarding the turrets. “Do we have details on these? I need specifications if we’re going to take them out.”

Harrison kind of laughed and shook his head. “No, these are just the main turrets. There’s an entire system along the pillars, and all defenses will interpret a parachute as a small aircraft.”

“What about the center?” Leona was not giving up. “What would the turrets do for a parachute in the center of the platform?”

Harrison looked through more data. “Survey says...it would let you onto the platform, but alert the humans. They care less about you getting in, and more about you getting out. Besides, that’s how the prison resupplies; with airdrops. They let pretty much anything but weapons in. The better the platform resembles a city, the closer they are to reaching their goals.”

“But what would we do once we got there?” Mateo pressed her. “Harrison said that parachutes are big enough to get us shot down. We would probably become prisoners.”

“Residents,” Harrison reminded them.

Leona showed her most evil smile. “We’re going to parachute in.” She shook her head deliberately and dramatically. “But we’re not parachuting out.”

Harrison spent the rest of the day retrieving supplies for them at the behest of Leona. Her plan relied on them doing this at the very end of their night. Meanwhile, she studied the prison layouts, tinkered with the holographic images, and designed a virtual world. She and Mateo then immersed themselves in a crude but effective simulation of their escape plan. They tried multiple routes and tactics, modifying the plan to account for hiccups and obstacles.

When they set out late at night, Harrison came up with a major problem that their simulations could not account for, “humans.”

“What about them?”

“Your plan assumes that Horace Reaver will still be at this facility a year from now. But you are meddling in their affairs this year. That gives them 365 days to move him somewhere else, and they will probably do that, just to be safe.”

Leona considered this. “Then we leave him out of it this year.”

“How do we do that? We need him ready to make the jump,” Mateo pointed out.

“Well, he relives days, right? So he already knows what’s going to happen. We’ll make a ruckus. He’ll know that it’s us, but we’ll be sure to avoid him. Then you, Mateo, will plan on finding him next year and pull him to the egress point. But he’ll already know where it is then too. For once, both our pattern and his give us an advantage that no one else has.”

“Reaver is by far the most powerful man there,” Harrison commented. “Even if you avoid him, they will suspect him.”

“That’s true,” Leona said, having no way around it.

“So we find a pawn,” Mateo piped up. “Find the next guy who might have the resources to pull this off. I’ll grab him and convince him that I’ve been sent to get him out. Come midnight, both he and the authorities will think he’s the one involved.”

“That’s kind of dark, Mateo.”

“This is your plan, Leona. And according to your friend Doug—whatever his name was—we have no choice but to do this.”

She exhaled and relented. “Harrison, pull up a list of inmates, I mean residents, and find me a believable scapegoat.”

Harrison did as he was told, despite his reservations. Then they were at their destination, miles in the air. Mateo oscillated between breathing deeply and breathing erratically. He felt a pit in his stomach. This was not the most dangerous thing he had ever experienced, but it was the only one he was going to do on purpose. What made things worse was why they were attempting it. After all Reaver had done, he was going to get his way once more.

Leona reached over and gave him a hug. “I know you don’t want to do this. I don’t either. And I promise, I’ll explain everything. Those words he said to me in the visitors’ room did mean something. They were a code. And there really isn’t any way for him to know them unless I gave them to him. Some part of me trusts him, and I have to trust that part.”

“I get it. I trust all of your parts.”

“Were I you, I would love me too, Mateo.”

“Were I you,” he repeated.

“Magic hour,” Harrison called back. “Time to make the drop!”

Leona turned around and let Mateo strap her back to his chest, and then she opened the hatch. “I’ll tell you when to pull!”

“Okay!” he yelled. And then they slipped out.

The fall was even scarier than when they shot across the sky from space. He hadn’t realized just how much Mirage had slowed them down that night. Upon his love’s command, he pulled the string and let the parachute loose. As they were drifting to their landing spot, an alarm rang out, but it only lasted a few seconds. It was just to let the few guards know that something was out of place. The two quickly disconnected from each other. Leona was about to run off to her mission, but he seized her and pulled her close so that he could give her one last kiss. “Be careful.”

“You too,” she replied. “Use your map. It’ll tell you where our patsy lives.”

“Let’s call him our pledge.”

“Very well.” She checked her watch and ran off to the platform wall.

Mateo ran the other way to look for a man named Gilbert Boyce. He wasn’t quite as rich as Reaver, but he had his friends on the outside, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone would stage an escape for him. He was already up and awake from the alarms, and standing on his patio. “Mister Boyce. Time to leave!”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been hired to break you out.”

“By whom?”

“I was not given a name. Just clean cash. Let’s go.” He looked at his watch. “We only have ten minutes to get to the far wall.”

Gilbert made no further arguments, jumping down the steps and managing to run faster than his supposed rescuer. They had to zig and zag and hide behind buildings, so that not too many people noticed them, but enough to get the rumors churning.

About halfway there, they ran into Reaver. “What are you doing?” he asked, clearly still not used to being out of control.

“Now be a good boy,” Mateo said to him in a psychopathic voice. “And we might come for you next year.”

Reaver seemed to get the message, and moved off in another direction.

“Are you really going to break him out too?” Gilbert asked.

Mateo scoffed. “Fat chance. That man ruined my mother’s life. I was just trying to get rid of him,” he lied.

They reached Leona who was carefully staring at her watch. “It’s almost time.” She breathed in and out to prepare herself.”

“Are you sure this is the right spot?”

“The wind wants me here.”

“And you’re sure the turrets will shoot your parachute, and not you?”

“No, not really.”

“Le-exi!” Mateo scolded, just about forgetting to use fake names, but catching himself in time.

Her watch’s alarm went off. “Time to go.” She pulled her string and released the parachute. It violently pulled her up towards the wall. The turrets spun around and began to shoot the parachute, but not before she had gotten as high as she needed to.

Using the oldest trick in the book, Mateo pointed behind them. What’s over there?”

Gilbert fell for it and looked for trouble long enough to give Mateo and Leona a chance to jump into the future. But just before, Leona released her parachute and left it in the past. Now in 2044, she fell down about a meter, and caught herself on the curved wall. Gilbert was gone and Reaver was standing in his place. The first part had worked. Now for the hard part.

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Microstory 118: Patience Cooney

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A great deal of people were aware of Patience Cooney’s special ability, though they were all sworn to secrecy. Like Upton, she never learned what she could do; it was just something she grew up understanding about herself. A theory floated around the science department of Bellevue that anomaly abilities always presented themselves in the best way possible, and that everyone who could potentially present an ability would. This meant that no one died never having discovered what they could do. Neither Upton nor Patience would have discovered their abilities organically since they were so specific and obscure, so nature gave them the answer ahead of time. Also like Upton, Patience could create special stones. But unlike him, a cooney stone did not contain her life; it was capable of sustaining anyone she put inside of it. Guests, as they were called, would not age while inside, they were fully aware of the passage of time, and if they shared the space with others, they could communicate with them telepathically. With further study, Bellevue discovered that her guests were not in the stone itself, but that the stone acted as a focal point—a key, of sorts—that provided access to an artificial simplex dimension. Guests can break themselves out of the stone as long as they are not hindered by some kind of barrier (e.g. inside of a box made of the earlier mentioned bellmei). Patience can pull guests out of her stones naturally, but due to her dangerous line of work, she also attaches a secret code that can be uttered by anyone who knows it. Patience was an extremely important member of the same organization that saved the life of Wilma Vann’s twin sister from Amadesis cult that wanted to kill her. Patience acted as a mobile underground railroad, ferrying rescues from their old life of death and wickedness to their new life on the other side of the world. She could place the rescues in one of her stones and transport them anywhere she wanted without anyone knowing they were there. When all is said and done, Patience Cooney was largely responsible for the continued lives of thousands of Amadesis defectors.

Microstory 29: Stash

You struggle up to the door and knock on it faintly, leaving a bloody handprint behind. A man opens it and instinctively pulls you into his house. “I’m sorry,” you say through gasps. I’m empty and need to get my old stash.” He tries to call the police but you stop him. “No cops. Just get me something to stop the bleeding.” He goes to the kitchen and retrieves some hand towels. You press them against your stomach and head for the bedroom. You laugh when he says something about never having found drugs when he first moved in. You gather your strength and kick through the drywall, revealing a black bag. Before you can pick it up, though, unconsciousness overcomes you and you fall to the floor. When you wake up, you find your stomach patched back together. The sewing kit you had left in the wall is sitting on the bed next to you. “Where’s my bag?” you ask. The man returns the bag to you and says that he doesn’t want any trouble. Unfortunately, he has no choice. You pull the gun out and point it at your target. “After I defected, I have no idea why they continued to use a safehouse that I already knew about. But my new employers want you gone.” You squeeze the trigger but nothing happens.

“No,” the man says. “They want you gone.” He lifts the other gun from your stash.

“Why did you sew me back up if you were going to kill me anyway?”

The man walks towards you, revealing a scared and teary-eyed woman standing in the doorway, holding a glass of water. “This isn’t a safehouse anymore. It’s just her house. And I said they want you gone. I never said I was going to kill you.” He leans down until he’s at your level, and shoots the woman in the head. Then he removes your shooting gloves, revealing latex gloves underneath. You can hear police sirens in the distance as the man walks out.